"You sure that this is going to be a sanctuary?" Nick gave a grunt as he jumped from the boat to the harrowed docks, smeared with blood and the dampened smell of despair.
"Of course," Zoey grinned, nodding towards the captain who began to spin the damaged boat in the opposite direction, "We're in the middle of the ocean, what could possibly go wrong?" Uncertain, Nick glanced downwards to the massacred remains of whoever used to live here.
"And this blood belongs to whom, then?"
"It's old, dried; probably from before the apocalypse," Coach chipped in, "We'll be safe. And if not, Bill's comin' back soon with more survivors, if we find ourselves in danger, we'll leave when he returns on the boat. Now c'mon, let's not stand around 'ere freezing off our arses."
The six of them began to head onwards into the entrance of the west prison block, each clutching their weapons tightly, relaxed yet increasingly cautious. Leading the huddle, Coach prised open the bolts which secured the heavy, metal door, and edged it open with a determined scowl. Darkness greeted them with arms outstretched, pulled them inwards into the unknown. And that's how it began, no going back now. This would be their sanctuary.
Torches ablaze, with beams of light slicing through the black in all directions, they began to advance, eying up the abandoned cells and upturned furniture sprawled across the elongated hallways. Whilst the silence was unnerving, Ellis found it somehow comforting to be lacking the hysterical screeches of hunters or the sorrowing sobs of witches. All he could remember was the anarchy that the survivors had to deal with, battling to stay alive in a world dominated by the infected. For years, the group had barely managed to do so, by voyaging around the globe in search of safe rooms, survivors, supplies and the ultimatum of rescue. All of which seemed increasingly hard to do, it took Nick, Coach, Rochelle and Ellis three years to unite with Zoey and Bill, both of whom were found in an abandoned shopping mall. Teaming up and successfully finding a boat, luckily with fuel, they turned their attention to finding a permanent haven. Where better than an isolated prison in the middle of an ocean. Alcatraz.
"I do hope that Bill finds them…" Zoey murmured, breaking the silence which had imprisoned the survivors.
"Finds who?" Rochelle glanced over, puzzled.
"Our teammates; Francis and Louis. We got separated on our journey to the Prospect Shopping Mall… We were attacked by a pack of hunters, parted ways, ran… We hoped to meet up at the mall. And when I arrived, I was alone. After a day of running, I was alone," Zoey gave a solemn sigh, "Bill thankfully arrived the next morning, exhausted and battered, but alive. The others? We don't know what happened to them…"
"I'm sure they'll be okay," Coach smiled sadly, and turned to face the room which they had stumbled upon. It was a large dining area, tables upturned and scattered, cutlery dotted randomly across the tiled, rubble floor. "I reckon we should stay here for tonight."
Nick rolled out their sleeping bags, drew out water bottles and handed them out evenly, allowing everyone to rehydrate. Zoey passed a packet of crackers around. They had only a limited amount of supplies until Bill returned with more, and hopefully the remaining two members of their old group. "Here's to a new start," she grumbled through crunches, "and to the future!"
Ellis grinned and nodded in agreement. Finally, they were safe. Contented, the survivors settled down in their bags and dropped off into sleep – the first time in a long time, they'd been able to safely relax. Within an hour, everybody except Ellis had dropped off into sleep. Ellis, on the other hand, found himself intrigued by his surroundings, with a desire to explore them. Grabbing an axe and a flashlight, he crept softly out of the dining room and down along the narrow passage to his right.
Destroyed and distraught, the cells weren't too pleasing or bolstering, yet something seemed to draw Ellis further and further from their camp site, driven by an unstoppable force which told him to investigate deeper. Within minutes, he found himself lost in the darkness, stumbling like a vulnerable child separated from their parents. Keep calm, he hissed to himself, can't be too hard to find your way back. If only he knew the truth. After an hour of stumbling, and a torch without any battery power, Ellis had resorted to feeling around with his hands, terrified. The silence tore into his flesh, making his hairs stand up on end, his blood run cold in his body.
His hand grasped a door, which he managed to peel open without much force. And inside the room, he could see the silhouettes of his surroundings; a small barred window guided the moonlight in gently but surely. Once his eyes adjusted, he noticed her. She sat, crunched up, on the upper bunk of a bed, rocking slightly.
"Hello?" He called gently, softly, scared to speak to loud in case he startled her, "Are you lost like me?" She gave a stiff nod, but continued to rock back and forth slowly, humming serenely to herself. "We can find our way back together, there are more of us. Is there more of you?"
The girl turned, her face buried in solitude and darkness, and again, she nodded. Ellis could barely distinguish her features, but her darkened, drowned eyes were clearly visible. She'd obviously been crying alone in the shadows for a long time. "It's okay, come here, I'll help…" He outstretched his arms in her direction, and she began to hold out her arms. Then he noticed the claws. It was at this point that Ellis stumbled backwards, mouth ajar, a low rasping scream in his throat.
Witch.